Bonus Wedding Epilogue

Christmas Eve Day

I hold the front of the strapless bridal gown tight across my chest as Macey and Cassie lace me in, tying the back like the threads of a baseball. “And everything’s all set on the concourse?”

“Joanie and one of her assistants just got here with the cupcakes and other treats,” Phoebe announces from the doorway. Unable to turn around, I smile at her reflection in the mirror. She’s gorgeous in her almost floor length ice-blue gown. Kyle’s not going to know what to do with himself. I hope the photographer gets a picture of his reaction so I can see it later. “They’re setting up exactly where we positioned the table last night.”

“And the potatoes?” They’re the most important part of dinner at the reception tonight.

“Still baking, but everything else is either cooling on trays in Grand Slam Spuds’ refrigerators or staying warm. By the time you’re done saying I do, the potatoes will be in warming trays ready to smash, spiral, or split before loading. They’re really so excited to be a part of your big day.”

I smile, glad I could incorporate one of my favorite concession stands into the big night, especially one that’s so delicious. “How could they not be with how many I’ve eaten since July alone?”

“With how many we’ve all eaten, you mean,” Macey says before patting me on the shoulder. “Done.”

Cassie gives the bow at the back one final tug. “Especially since they opened up their own restaurant.”

She’s still a couple hours away in Nevershade, but as one of my maids of honor, she’s been back regularly since I got engaged to help with every planning detail. No matter how minor. Personally, I think a certain groomsman has played more of a role in that, but I’m not going to complain about how often I’ve gotten to see my oldest friend these last few months.

Shelby slides her makeup kit along the bench toward me. “Okay, my turn.”

Macey and Cassie step to the side, both of them already in their navy maid of honor dresses. Cassie goes over to help Dinah with her hair, and Macey grabs her own makeup. Our photographer flits around all of us, snapping away. Over in the visiting team’s locker room, Cameron, one of the staff photographers, is getting photos of the guys preparing for the ceremony. I’m sure it looks a little different than this.

Once Shelby’s done, Dinah helps me place my veil, ensuring it doesn’t catch on any of the beading on my dress. She received specific instructions on how to stick it into my hair, per the hair stylist who worked on me this morning.

Half of my hair’s up in a beautiful twisted updo with the other in a tight braid that disappears into the twist at the back of my head. A hairpiece with roses made from baseballs sits above the braid at the back, helping that disappearing effect.

I’d found an image of a similar hairpiece online, then tracked down the crafter to have something created for me. Something for all the girls, too, as well as cuff links for Finn using a baseball from the game we met.

Not the baseball, of course. No, that one is safely stored in a Cassie-approved display case in our living room.

I’d hoped to give Finn similar cuff links that had belonged to my dad, but I was never able to locate them amongst his things once I finally felt able to look through it all. Had a good cry the day I had to face the fact that I’d probably never see them again.

“All right, I think that’s about it,” I announce to the photographer once Dinah steps away. “We are all yours. Where would you like us for photos?”

For the next half hour, the girls and I pose and are posed throughout the locker room, sitting on the benches together, standing in front of the cubbies where the guys keep their belongings and where clean uniforms wait for them before each game. They’re usually empty this time of year, but we saw to that a couple days ago, hanging jerseys and placing gear throughout the space to make it look more alive. We’ve slung bats over our shoulders, put gloves on our hands, held baseballs, tossed baseballs around, and if it weren’t for our makeup and hair, no doubt we’d have donned helmets and ballcaps too. After the ceremony, we’ll have even more pictures both inside the stadium and outside on the field while guests make their way to the Snowhawk Summit, Frost Field’s VIP lounge, for cocktails and themed appetizers.

A cellphone buzzes from the bench where all of our bags are, prompting both Phoebe and Macey to head toward the pile.

Macey holds her phone up. “It’s mine.” She heads out into the hallway, her thumbs flying across the screen.

A couple minutes later, a distinctly male voice funnels through the locker room doors. Mack, the only person I could see walking me down the aisle since my own father can’t. As my dad’s best friend, he was happy to accept. He’s walked one of his three girls down the aisle so far, but neither Macey nor Molly, the youngest, are to that point in their lives yet.

“Is everyone decent?” he asks, even as Macey pulls him into the room, his hand covering his eyes.

“All good in here, Mack,” I tell him, and he drops his hand back down to his side.

His eyes widen as he takes me in. “Wow.” His tone is hushed, and his eyes glisten with emotion. But if he didn’t cry on his oldest daughter’s wedding day, then he’s not going to cry for mine. “I only wish your dad could see you now.”

I nod, swallowing back the grief from his loss just over a year ago.

Mack clears his throat. “On that note, I have something for you. Well, your dad does.” He holds a hand out toward me as he reaches into the pocket on his pants. I’m pretty sure suit pants like his have the pockets sewn shut, but as someone who has always needed his pockets to keep his sunflower seeds in, of course he’d have working pockets.

Steeling myself, I take Mack’s hand as he pulls a small box from his pocket. “When your dad realized he wasn’t going to make it to this moment himself, he called me and asked me to do him a favor. And you know I’d do anything for him, so I agreed without him even telling me what it was. I’ve been holding onto these for a while now.”

He flips the box lid open with his thumb, revealing a familiar but different set of jewelry.

I gasp because I refuse to say I choke back a sob. I do not cry. Not often, anyway. “I looked for those cuff links everywhere. I was going to give them to Finn.”

“Well, your dad had other plans for them, and now they are not cuff links. They’re earrings.” He points to three small gemstones set along the lower third of one earring. The other is the mirror image of this one. “These are a sapphire and aquamarine for the Snowhawks colors and a diamond, of course, for baseball diamonds. And three stones both for his number when he played and the promise you’re making to Finn of today, tomorrow, and forever.”

Cassie squeezes me tight on one side, Macey on the other, as Phoebe reaches over to fan my face so the tears now falling from my eyes don’t ruin my makeup. Fortunately it’s waterproof.

Mack sniffles. “Darn it. I said I wasn’t going to cry.”

My voice is barely a whisper when it answers, “Same here.”

Shelby gently places her hand on Mack’s upper arm. “I brought this for Gale, just in case, but I think you might need it too, Mack. Maybe even more.” He lets go of my hand as she passes him a palm-sized, battery-powered fan. “Dry your eyes some.”

He chuckles and says thanks, but uses it, drawing laughs from the girls and bringing levity back into the room. “Macey always says you are the mom of the group. This about proves it.”

The comment spurs another round of laughter, and we pass the fan around because now the tears are happy ones.

I pull Mack in for a hug. “Thank you so much for this. And for walking me down the aisle.”

“I’m honored to do so. Just about that time, isn’t it?”

A small gasp escapes Phoebe. “Yes, yes, it is. Five-minute warning, everyone!”

“I’ll see you out there,” Mack says as he lets me go, then heads out of the locker room.

I hurry over to the mirror to put in my earrings. The most beautiful gift I ever could have received and something I’ll treasure forever. I’m only barely aware of the photographer clicking away as I adjust them to how I want. As I do, the girls come around me for one final look, and I have no doubt this will result in one of my favorite photos from today.

“And you’ve got your something old,” Macey says, pointing to the earrings. The baseball leather in them is from my dad’s first no-hitter before I was born.

“Something borrowed,” Dinah says, gently touching the edge of my veil, which came from Marley, Macey’s older sister.

Cassie holds up my navy-blue jacket with ice-blue snowflakes embroidered onto the satin fabric. I’d fallen in love with a strapless gown that would be much too cold to wear at an outdoor ceremony in December, so I had this made for me by the woman who used to sew my dance competition costumes. The snowflakes were the perfect touch, and a nod to what brought Finn and me together. He may have fallen for me and on me while catching a baseball, but without me getting to know him and his heart through all his efforts for the foundation’s Christmas in July gala, we might not be here today, Christmas Eve Day, about to be married.

Cassie helps me into the short jacket as the rest of the girls head to the door, grabbing their bouquets in the boxes delivered by the florist Finn used the first time he sent flowers to my office. There have been regular bouquets ever since. One for every road trip, and now that the season’s well over, he gets them for me just because.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get you paired up with Shane tonight,” I whisper to Cassie.

She shrugs. “He’s still in the wedding party, and besides, I’m with Devon, not some stranger. Conner and Nolan seem nice, though.”

“They are. A lot of his friends do.” I’ve met many of them since our engagement, but Conner, Finn’s old roommate from the Sailors has been around the most. He was an easy choice for the wedding party, and “I think Conner’s the right choice for Macey tonight.”

“Maybe it will wake Ian up some to see her dancing with someone else.”

“Maybe,” I echo, raising my eyebrows in fake innocence. I thought the same thing.

Macey pops her head back into the locker room. “Are you two coming?”

Cassie extends her elbow out to me, and I wrap mine around hers. “Coming!”

In the hallway leading to the Snowhawks dugout, most of the wedding party lines up for the processional. Finn and his best men, Conner and Devon, are already at home plate. I greet and hug everyone in the hallway, down to Cassie’s niece and Macey’s niece and nephew, my junior bridesmaid, flower girl and ring bearer, respectively, thanking them all for being here today.

The music shifts and so does my heart rate, which is easily now beating double what it had been a few moments before.

One by one, the groomsmen—Shane, Nolan from Finn’s college team, and Kyle—walk out to take their places next to Finn, Conner, and Devon. Then Cassie’s niece heads into the dugout. She’s followed by Phoebe, my absolute rock at work and someone who has become such a good friend. She turns to give me one last smile, then walks into the dugout and up the stairs. Next it’s Shelby, who, during our earlier hug, tucked tissues in my cleavage just in case. Not that I’m going to be digging in there for them during the ceremony. I’m not going to cry. Cassie goes next, looking radiant in her navy-blue gown.

Finally, we’re down to me, the flower girl and ring bearer, Macey, and her dad. But with the kids peeking out the door, trying to see onto the field, it’s more like just the three of us.

“Dad, turn away,” Macey orders in a no-nonsense tone.

Mack raises an eyebrow but does as asked.

“Hold still,” she tells me right before she reaches into the front of my dress.

“Macey!” I choke on a surprised laugh.

Before I can say anything else, she pulls the tissues out of my dress, carefully tucks them into her bouquet, and hurries into the dugout so the processional’s timing doesn’t get thrown off.

Her niece and nephew, distracted, missed everything. Definitely for the best.

Mack faces forward once more, shaking his head. He might not have seen what Macey did, but since he’s standing right next to me, he probably has a good idea. As the bold middle daughter of his three, Macey’s antics likely don’t surprise him.

Once his grandchildren head into the dugout, Mack clears his throat. “This is the part where I tell you it’s not too late to run. We can be through the tunnels and to the staff lot before they—”

“Mack . . .” I say softly, warmed by his teasing but caring gesture, “the only place I’m running to is Finn at home plate.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He leads me to the threshold of the dugout as he continues. “Finn’s a heck of a ball player, and he’s contributed so much to the team in his short time here, but most importantly, he’s a good man and he’s brought so much back to you. I wish you both every happiness.”

“Thank you, Mack. Truly.”

We stop in the dugout just before the steps leading onto the field. “You ready to do this?”

I nod. “More than anything.”

“Then let’s get you to home plate.”

“To Finn.”

An aww and some chuckling rises from the field, and I can only imagine what cute thing the flower girl and ring bearer are doing.

As quickly as it bubbled forth, the noise from the guests dies down as the music shifts to the traditional wedding march.

Mack and I cautiously ascend the dugout steps. They’ve been deiced several times over to be ready for today, and although they’re safe with no trace of ice on them, I’m glad the girls and I all have on sneakers. Mine are red and white to match the striped stockings from the Christmas in July gala that Finn requested I wear again. Given his reaction to them the first time I wore them, I’m happy to grant my soon-to-be husband’s request.

It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust once we step out onto the warning track. The outfield is covered in a beautiful blanket of snow, but the diamond looks game ready. The grounds crew clearly worked wonders. Chairs cover the infield grass except for an aisle from first base to the pitcher’s mound and from the mound to home plate. In those chairs are Finn’s and my closest friends and family members, including his mom, who is lovely even if not a fan of baseball.

Everyone rises and turns my way, blocking my view of home plate. Mack and I make our way to first base, then over to the pitcher’s mound. I pull a single ice-blue rose from my bouquet and place it on the dirt, joining a pile of others next to a photograph of my father and grandfather standing together on this same field as my grandfather hands my dad a game-used ball from his no-hitter. The same ball that’s now a part of my earrings. I place my fingers to the glass, missing them both so much.

But my future is calling, and I stand, turning toward home plate.

There, under an arch of Christmas greenery and paper snowflakes, Finn stands in his tux, the biggest smile on his face as he dabs at his eyes.

I’m only partially aware of the people I pass on my way to him. I’ll make sure to say hello to them all at the reception, but right now, Finn is all I see.

Once I’m within arm’s distance of Finn, it takes everything in me to not rush the last two steps so I can take him in my arms and kiss him. So I can wipe away his tears, even if they are happy ones.

Mack stops, halting that desire from becoming a reality, and we face each other.

He pulls me in for a hug. “Congratulations, again, Gale. You make a beautiful bride.”

“Thank you, Mack. For these,” I say, touching my earring through my veil, “for being my dad’s best friend, for walking me down the aisle. For everything.”

He nods, then turns me back toward Finn. He and Finn shake hands before doing a more tender version of a bro hug. Then Mack steps back, and Finn extends his open hand toward me. I give him mine willingly and take those final two steps to home plate where our officiant stands waiting.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. We’d not done the traditional first look photos, so this is the first he’s seen of me in my dress.

“You’re looking mighty fine yourself.” I give him a slow once-over, taking in all the small touches, from the candy canes sticking out of his breast pocket next to his baseball rose boutonniere down to his red sneakers that match my own.

“Shall we begin?” the officiant asks, preventing us from saying more.

We nod, and as our officiant speaks, I stare at Finn, unable to look away. I mouth to him that I love him, and he mouths it back. Never have I ever been more confident in anything anyone has told me before.

Soon, we’re saying our vows in front of our loved ones. And Santa Claus. Probably not the most traditional wedding guest, but with Finn helping out as an elf this holiday season, we couldn’t not invite him.

“By the power vested in me by this great state and the Church of Baseball, I now pronounce you husband and wife. There’s some mistletoe above you, and you both have been so patient, so you know what to do.”

Do we ever.

We drop our hold on each other’s hands as I step toward him, lifting my hand up to caress his cheek as he lifts the veil off my face. A moment’s hesitation crosses his face before he leans in under the gauzy, see-through fabric and lets it fall over his head.

A low chuckle rises from our guests at the belief Finn was being his trademarked goofy self. But I know the truth. The move wasn’t calculated, unlike so many of his others. He genuinely wasn’t sure what to do, and it makes him all the more endearing. I take one of his hands as he lowers it, and we hold it between us as he wraps his free arm around my waist, pulling me closer.

I rise ever so slightly onto my toes, and he tilts his head toward mine, our lips meeting, softly, slowly, kissing in front of everyone as husband and wife.

“I love you,” he whispers, and I do the same before kissing him again.

Someone nearby whistles, and we break apart, smiles on both of our faces as we turn to our guests.

The officiant shifts behind us. “May I present Finn and Gale, husband and wife, each other’s grand finale in love and life,” he says, referencing our couple name. Fortunately the media quickly picked up on it once we used it in Finn’s social media post announcing our engagement. So much better than Fale.

The crowd breaks into applause and rises as the music shifts to a more modern version of “Take Me Out to the Ballgame.” Finn and I stride up the aisle, hand in hand, leading our wedding party back toward the dugout so they can warm up some before pictures.

Then my husband—oh my goodness, Finn’s my husband now—and I head down the warning track back toward home plate to await our guests. We shake hands with them all as husband and wife as they shuffle off the field through a door into the stands that will lead them to the concourse. No one lingers. It’s too chilly to stay out for much longer, despite the heaters aimed toward the seats, and there are delicious apps waiting for them.

I can only hope there might be some left when the wedding party is done with pictures. If not, there’s a baked potato bar calling my name once the reception officially starts.

The photographers are already snapping away by the time all the guests have made it off the field. Mack, Macey, and Marley’s kids are posing right now with the rest of the Brockmann family—Molly, Marley and her husband Marshall, and Mrs. Brockmann, Maggie—at our special request and because the kids aren’t staying for the reception so they can get some time in with Marshall’s parents for the holiday. We join them for a couple of photos before half of them leave to go inside. Next it’s Finn, his mother, and me so she can head inside too.

Finally, it’s just the core group of the wedding party. Best friends, team mates, and a family of my own making. I love them all and how they’ve been here for me. Not just today but the last year, and some even years before that. Finn is my forever, but they are too, and I’m so grateful.

We get pictures of us all together in various locales within Frost Field as a whole, away from Snowhawk Summit where the guests currently are. Then we take pictures with all the girls. Just the guys. Finn with his Sailors teammates. Then with his Snowhawks ones. One of the friend group who, for the most part, grew up here: Me, Cassie, Shane, Macey, and Devon. Pictures of me with each of the girls individually. Same for Finn and the guys. Next a picture of Shane and Devon. Shane’s mom will love it. Then a picture of Phoebe and Kyle followed by one of Cassie and Shane because I said so and know they’ll want it someday. And several of just Finn and me together too.

Finally pictures are almost done, but there are a few more that we had to save for last.

“What are we doing back out on the field?” Cassie asks as we reach the infield once more. Her confusion is echoed on the faces of the rest of the wedding party, minus Phoebe, who knows because she helped Frost Field’s event planner with today’s unique logistics.

“You’ll see,” I tell her, and I lift my eyebrows playfully. “But it’s completely optional.” Although I told the girls to bring something to change into for the reception, I can’t expect them to all do what my husband—my husband!—and I are about to do.

Finn holds his hand out to me, and I take it.

Then we’re off, running toward the snow, one photographer following us and the other capturing the candid reactions of our friends.

We flop into the snow, and just like he did the night I realized he wasn’t some goof on the field but a genius, we make snow angels in the outfield.

Squeals and laughs of delight reach my ears, quickly followed by the crunching of snow and finally the plops of our friends joining us on the ground. I sit up to survey the outfield, and not one person, aside from the photographers, is standing. We’re all doing this.

One by one, we all get up to assess our angels. Finn wraps his arms around me from behind, warming my chilled back.

It’s a nice reprieve from the cold, but we’re not done out here. Not yet.

Before he can react, I cup my hands into the snow, then spin away from him as I stand and toss the snowball his way.

Finn stands there, mouth slightly agape as he looks at the blob of snow on his suit coat. He breaks into a smile as his gaze meets mine, amusement alight in his eyes. Amidst laughter from everyone around us, he gathers snow into a ball and lobs it toward me. Soon, we’re all engaged in a snowball fight, the snow flying every which way. I can’t remember the last time I was in one. Maybe a teen? Wow, I’d forgotten how fun this could be.

Eventually, our game turns into a battle between the guys, and we girls cluster together for warmth, giggling as we watch.

Phoebe reaches into the pocket of her dress and pulls out her phone. “The potatoes are ready when we are.”

“Oh, I’m more than ready.” I barely ate this morning thanks to everything I had to do to get ready, and now I’m so hungry. We still need to change though. Good thing it will take a little while for our guests to make their way out of Snowhawk Summit and down to the main reception area.

Breaking our huddle, I wave my arms over my head. The snowball fight is still going strong, but enough of the guys catch sight of me and pause. I yell that it’s time to go inside, and they toss the last of what they’re holding at each other and join us girls on our way inside.

Finn’s lips are exhilaratingly chilly against mine when he kisses me.

“Have fun?” I ask.

He nods before turning those cold lips to my ear, whispering, “Not as much fun as we’re going to have dancing at the reception, though.”

With a quick last kiss on my forehead, Finn and the guys leave us at the entrance to the Snowhawks locker room and head to the visitors’ side so we can start changing into our reception wear.

Cassie and Macey work on the skirt portion of my dress, undoing laces and snaps. When it falls to the floor, the second silhouette of my dress appears in its place, this one a fit and flare with a side slit to show off my candy cane stockings. And thanks to the poofiness of the first, it’s also completely dry, as if I hadn’t been rolling around in the snow not too long ago.

Once we’re all changed for the reception, we walk through the tunnels to meet back up with the guys so we can be announced onto the grand concourse in pairs.

Finn’s jaw drops as he spots me, and I spin so he can see the full effect, my tights included. He’s swapped the jacket of his tux for a red blazer befitting a handsome, young Santa. He grabs one side to open it, and I smile at the candy-cane-patterned inner lining. The other guys have changed too, a necessity after the snowball fight especially. Holiday or baseball ties have replaced bow ties, and suits range from black to shades of blue to full on-theme with Conner’s suit covered in an ugly sweater print featuring gingerbread houses, people, and trees.

“From one of our themed travel days two years ago,” Finn explains.

“Do you have one like that?”

He laughs. “You’re looking at it. I told you candy canes are my favorite.” Then he winks before placing his hand at the small of my back as we all head to the concourse.

As our friends are announced by the DJ, we cheer them on from behind, but the entrance music drowns us out. Then it’s our turn, and for the second time, Finn and I are introduced as husband and wife. We come bounding out onto the dance floor in celebration, the song telling us to not look back and to shut up and dance.

So we do.

The song fades, and as the notes to the next start, the DJ says into his mic, “And now the bride and groom will have their first dance.”

Just like we’d practiced in our couple’s dance classes, I twirl into Finn’s arms. After a kiss, we assume our position, one of his arms at the small of my back, one of mine on his shoulder, and our other hands joined between us. We glide across the temporary dance floor the event team installed for today as the song plays. The lyrics touch upon being a light in the dark, which he absolutely was for me as I struggled to find myself. And the chorus is all about wanting to run home. On one level, it’s fitting for someone who plays baseball. But on the other, running home to me is also what Finn does at the end of the day—or road trip, since he doesn’t have super powers to make it a daily reality. Someday it will be, though. Baseball is good for the soul, but playing days only last so long. How long is truly unknown.

But Finn and me?

We’re forever.